Chapter Eighteen #2
eagerness. They’d both been so intent on their work that they’d not spoken to each other for the past couple of hours.
“What do you see?” Dom asked, offering her the coin he held.
“It’s gold,” she murmured, then looked up at her brother. “Papa was better with coins than either of us.”
“But you know who’s mentioned there,” Tristan told her.
“Dominus Noster . . .” she read and then looked up, locking eyes with each of them in turn. “Roman Emperor Justin. Sixth century.
Are there more?”
Dom felt a bit dizzy, and he had a sudden wish that Eve was with him. She loved the finds that gave them indications of hard
fast dates.
Tristan crouched down and Townsend handed him half a dozen more coins. All gold, from the looks of them.
“An ingot?” Dom reached for a rectangular lump of gold. It was common practice to include coins with royal or special burials,
often with the notion of paying a ferryman or paying for whatever the soul might need in the afterlife.
“What have you got there?” Van Arsdale called from the packed dirt ledge above them.
They’d all been too caught up in their find to notice his approach.
“Gold coins,” Dom told him.
“In good condition?”
“Excellent condition, sir,” Townsend put in.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Van Arsdale said, seemingly uninterested in the finer details. “Find me lots more.”
Dom approached Tess once the American made his way back to his chair.
“Breathe,” he whispered to her.
She’d closed her eyes and seemed to be holding her breath. At his urging, her eyes opened and the frustration he saw there
made the excitement of the last moments fade.
“I’m going back to the front to work,” she told him, then offered the Justinian coin they’d found to him. “This tells us that
the burial took place after the sixth century, and that would fit with the theory that it could be Redwald or one of his sons.”
“It’s a good theory.”
“Not that Van Arsdale will care much about the details.” She stared down at her mud-covered boots. “It’s an odd feeling. I
want to find more and yet I don’t.”
Before Dom could reply, she turned and made her way back to the spot where she’d been working for much of the day.
He glanced over at Tristan, who was bent over his field notebook, documenting each coin as well as sketching the spot where
they’d discovered them.
“Let’s move a few more men to this area,” he suggested.
“Agreed,” Tristan told him. “I’ll see to it as soon as I have this all down.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Dom stepped up to the perimeter of the trench and directed a few men in a corner section to move down toward the middle, closer to where the coins had been found.
As he made his way back to Tristan, he heard a gasp and turned quickly back to Tess.
She and the younger Bromley brother were hunched, their heads almost touching, as they stared down into the depression they’d
excavated.
“Easy now,” Dan Bromley murmured.
Tess nodded and swiped gently with her brush. “It’s extraordinary.”
Dom glanced up at the Americans, who seemed to be in excited discussion, perhaps about the find of the gold coins. He climbed
down to where Tess and Bromley were on their knees.
“What is it?”
When Tess looked up, her eyes were glassy. “It’s beautiful, but I’m not sure what it is.” She kept her voice quiet, and he
understood.
Crouching beside her, he spotted what she’d found, and his mouth went dry. Gold and ornately carved, the object was in perfect
condition.
Dan tapped the handle end of his trowel against the edge and a clump of dirt fell away.
“I think it’s a buckle,” Tess breathed, brushing eagerly. She used her fingers to peel away a bit more of the top sediment
and the whole piece became visible. It wasn’t the tiny fragment she’d found earlier. This was massive in comparison.
With care and patience, she lifted it free of the soil and laid it in her palm. It filled her hand from her wrist to the tips
of her fingers.
“This was a wealthy person,” she said softly. “The workmanship is breathtaking.”
It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful artifacts he’d ever seen, the kind that would cause gasps of delight for years. The kind that the papers would display in sketches and photographs. The kind that would be a centerpiece of a museum display.
Dom swallowed hard as he noted the shift of interest from the Van Arsdales.
Tess held his gaze, and it felt as if she was willing him to keep the find between the two of them for as long as possible.
A shadow passed over them, and Tess curled her fingers around the buckle, as if to shield it, but it was too late for that.
Even the other workers on the dig were gathering around, sensing the excitement in the air.
“What do we have here?” Van Arsdale’s voice was almost breathless, seemingly edged with the thrill of acquisition. He crouched
beside them, peering at the artifact with the sharp eye of a man weighing worth and ownership, rather than history.
Tess hesitated. Dom felt it as much as saw it.
“It’s a belt buckle,” Dom said, then cleared his throat of the lump that seemed to have formed there. “Gold. Perhaps made
for royalty, given the craftsmanship.”
Van Arsdale whistled. “A true treasure!” He reached an arm out and slapped Dom on the back. “You’ll be in the papers again,
Prince. Your father would be proud.”
Dom flinched at the words he might have savored weeks ago.
That kind of praise was what he’d sought; it had fueled his restlessness. He’d once relished notoriety as much as his father
had. Like father, like son, he’d often been told.
But now, looking at Tess and the emotions swirling in her eyes, that legacy felt like a weight, pulling him away from who
he truly was and what he wanted.
Tess’s gaze on him held steadily. She said nothing. Expressed no anger. Made no demands. If she’d pleaded in that moment, he would have given her whatever she wanted.
Yet her eyes held something that shook him even harder than tears or anger. Something far more dangerous—hope. As if she trusted
him to fight for her.
She reached for his hand and let the magnificent buckle slide from her palm into his.
“Let me have a closer look,” Van Arsdale demanded.
Dom closed his fingers over the intricately carved gold. It should have been an easy choice. Two weeks ago, it would have
been. For the first time in his life, Dom didn’t care about the story of his exploits of the glory of this find. He wasn’t
determined to follow an already-trod path carved by his father. He wanted something more. He wanted her.
Yet he knew what he’d agreed to, that his work and his finds on this dig had been bought and paid for by the Van Arsdales.
The battle couldn’t be won in this moment.
So he stood, turned toward his patron, and held out his hand.
But he glanced back at Tess.
She didn’t look away. Didn’t try to hide her disappointment, but there was no condemnation in her gaze. As if she knew the
inevitability of and expected the choice he’d make.
And, somehow, that was worse.